


make this chaos count

by cornerstonekids



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Phone Calls, Pining, idk man i just wanted to practice writing dialogue and then this happened, no geese were harmed in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-02-26 15:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18720331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornerstonekids/pseuds/cornerstonekids
Summary: “I do this all the time and I’m perfectly fine.”Danton’s heart aches at the thought of Sean repeatedly sneaking out alone at night, trying to escape the suffocating weight of responsibility that he feels in his own home. He wonders why, if this is such a common occurrence, Sean decided to invite him along this time. He’s on the verge of asking when he hears Sean’s drawer slam shut and he loses his nerve, opting for chirping him instead.“Perfectly fine? I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”(Or: A lot can change in one night.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time i've ever posted so let me know what you think!!
> 
> title is from "jupiter" by sleeping at last

Danton wakes up to the sound of his phone vibrating on his bedside table, the harsh light from a notification illuminating his dungeon of a bedroom. He throws his pillow over his head, praying that he’ll be able to fall back asleep. Another buzz comes through, then another, and he rolls towards his bedside table with a groan. He picks up his phone and immediately recoils at the light, then races to turn down his brightness. When his eyes finally adjust, he’s able to make out the time, 2:59 a.m., and that he’s got 4 messages from Sean. 

**_hey_ **

**_hey!!_ **

**_hellllllllloooooooooo_ **

**_psst_ **

He’s mid eye-roll when another message comes in.

**_are you there????????_ **

Danton is about to type out a scathing response when his phone starts buzzing in his hand and Sean’s contact photo flashes across his screen. He takes a second to appreciate the picture of Sean looking completely ridiculous, dressed up as a hot dog from Halloween last year, before he slides to answer the call. 

“WHAT?” he groans, slamming his head back down on his pillow and balancing his phone against his ear. 

“Hi,” Sean responds. He sounds like he smiling, pleased with himself that Danton actually answered, and it reminds Danton that he should still be sleeping. 

“What could you possibly want? It’s like 3:00 am,” he says as he pulls his comforter back up over his shoulder.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided to take it out on me?” Danton is whining, and he knows it, but he’s also a sleep-deprived teenager, so he’s giving himself a pass for being a bit of a dick.

“Sorry,” Sean says, but there’s no sincerity in his voice. “Did I wake you up?”

Danton can’t hold back his scoff. “No, I actually just got back from the supermarket.” He pauses but there’s no response on the other end. “It’s 3:00 am you diphsit, of course you woke me up.”

“Sorry,” and this time there is a tinge of earnestness there.

“Yeah, you mentioned that.”

“Well somebody’s grumpy,” Sean teases with a little bit of bite behind his words, and Danton has never been less in the mood to deal with his shit.

“Gee, I wonder why…” he says, forcing his annoyance through the phone.

“You know what this was stupid, nevermind.” There’s movement coming through the line, like he’s pacing, and Danton swears he can feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. “Just go back to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sean, wait, I’m sorry,” he spits it out quickly, hoping it’ll get through before Sean hangs up. He doesn’t get a response, but the line hasn’t gone dead so he continues, trying to lighten the mood. “You know how I get with my beauty sleep.”

Sean takes the bait, seeming slightly less tense than he had before, “Yeah, that ugly mug needs as much as it can get.”

“Ok, don’t push it.”

“Sorry,” he says for the third time in the span of two minutes. 

Danton senses that Sean wants something, and that this isn’t going to be a short call, so he sits up a little more in his bed and props himself up with his pillow against his headboard. It’s still completely dark in his room, save for the dull light shining from where his phone is pressed against his ear, and all he can hear are the soft muffled sounds of Sean’s breathing through the line. It gives him the feeling that the two of them are in their own dimension, isolated from the rest of the world, and if he lets himself think about it any longer he might start to worry about how comforting he finds that thought to be.

“Alright,” he sighs, trying to sound long-suffering, but he misses by a mile and mostly just comes across as fond, “I’m awake now so what’s up?”

“I just couldn’t sleep,” and now that he’s clued into it, Danton can hear the exhaustion in Sean’s voice. “And I wanted to talk to you,” he adds, quieter than before, “So here I am.”

Danton stalls, unsure how to respond before blurting out, “Why me?”

“C’mon I’m not that bad am I?” Danton is almost positive it’s a joke, but something in Sean’s tone seems uncertain.

“No, not ‘Why me?’ in a bad way,” he clarifies, “You’re my friend obviously you’re not that bad. I mean I like talking to you. I mean –” Danton cuts himself off, rubbing his hand over his face, and gives himself a second for his brain to catch up with his mouth. He does his best to ignore the churning feeling in his stomach. “I meant “Why me” like why did you pick me to call?”

“I dunno, you’re good to talk to.” Sean is still tense, and he says it like it’s a question.

“Seriously?” Danton asks, incredulous.

“Well now you’re not but it kinda seems like its out of spite,” he laughs, and Danton breathes a sigh of relief into his vacuum of his bedroom. “I’m kidding. I dunno, Danny, I just thought of you it’s no biggie.”

“Alright well, thanks? I guess?” his voice is coming out too high pitched, and he can feel his cheeks start to heat up at the thought of Sean, restless, wanting to talk to him specifically to calm down. 

“Don’t dwell on it dude, I said it’s no biggie.” That helps Danton come back to himself, keeps his mind from wandering too far from reality. Sean couldn’t sleep, so he was bored and called his best friend. That’s all there is to it. “So what have you been up to?”

Danton chuckles quietly, “You mean since I saw you 3 hours ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, let’s see…” Danton says conspiratorially, running the edge of his blanket through his fingers, “I showered.” 

“Nice.”

“Brushed my teeth…”

“Always important.”

“Fed my cat…”

“Gotta love Phil Espawsito.”

“And went to bed,” he deadpans. 

“Booooo,” comes Sean’s exaggerated groan, “You’re no fun.”

“Sean, it’s a school night,” Danton says, all mock outrage. He smiles into the darkness when he hears Sean let out a soft laugh and call him a dork under his breath. “What about you, what did you do?”

“Hmmm,” he pretends to be deep in thought, “Well, I laid in my bed and stared at my ceiling… Then I texted you.”

“And that’s better than what I did how?”

“Well I never said my life was interesting. I was just hoping yours would be.” Danton can tell that Sean is smiling on the other end, and he deems it a win considering how uneasy Sean had sounded earlier in their phone call.

“Sorry, bud. No luck.”

“Eh, no problem. We can be boring together,” Sean sounds devious, and then he draws out a long, “Orrrrr…”

“Uh oh,” Danton braces for what he’s sure is going to be an idea he would come to regret if he agreed to it.

“We could go do something fun,” Sean continues, ignoring Danton’s interruption.

Danton turns to his side and flicks on the lamp on his nightstand, flooding the room with warm light, already preparing himself to say yes to whatever Sean proposes. “I knew you didn’t just want to talk.”

“What, am I that predictable?” Sean asks, and Danton’s sure that he already knows the answer, knows that he loves joking about how Danton can tell what he’s going to do even before he does.

“Yes,” he replies, anyway.

“Alright, well whatever,” Sean dimisses, and Danton is unsettled by the fact that he can picture the exact expression on his face as he says it. It’s the one he always gets when Danton teases him, eyebrows quirking up quickly before he rolls his eyes and a toothy smile spreads across his face. Danton is still picturing the image when Sean’s voice cuts through line, jarring him from his thoughts, “So do you want to?”

Danton sputters. “Want to what?” 

“Go do something!” Sean laughs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Danton is an idiot for not keeping up.

“Yeah but what kind of something?” Danton says, mimicking his tone and hoping to recover some of the dignity he lost as soon as he got flustered thinking of his best friend’s smile. 

“I dunno, man. Anything.” He sounds almost desperate, and Danton doesn’t understand why until he follows it up with a quiet admission, “There’s no way I’m gonna fall asleep. And I really can’t be in this house anymore. I’m starting to go crazy.”

It clicks for Danton now, and his stomach sinks with the realization. Sean’s tension at the beginning of the call, his eagerness to get Danton to go somewhere, the defeat in his voice. It all comes down to one thing. Danton knows that Sean’s dad is sick and that he’s had to take on a caretaking role in the months since his diagnosis, but that’s about it. Sean hates talking about it. He shuts down every time Danton brings it up and will give him the cold shoulder until he’s sure Danton wouldn’t dare to mention it again. Danton’s pretty sure that it has something to do with not wanting to be pitied, and despite Sean’s complete unwillingness to discuss it, Danton knows how taxing it is on him and how guilty he is for feeling that way. He was already planning to agree to whatever idea Sean came up with, but now there’s nothing he could say that Danton wouldn’t do, if only to give him one night of respite. 

“At least give me an idea of what I’m getting myself into,” he finally relents.

“Does that mean you’ll do it?!” His unfettered joy already has the corners of Danton’s mouth turning upward.

Danton doesn’t want to concede too quickly, doesn’t want to give himself away. He knows that he’s going no matter what, so he doesn’t feel bad drawing it out a little, making it seem like he isn’t wrapped around Sean’s finger even though that’s clearly the case. “No…” he says carefully, “It means I want more information first.”

“Ugh, you’re such a buzzkill,” Sean sighs, but his excitement is still there, like he knows he has Danton where he wants him. “Fine. We could go to the 24-Hour Wendy’s.”

“But–”

“Don’t pretend for a second that you’re not a sucker for Frosty’s.” 

“Not fair, you know my weakness. What else?”

Sean pauses for a second before his voice comes through, tentative but hopeful. “The beach will be empty.” He speaks again quickly, as if he can hear Danton’s mental protests, “It’s the best time to go!”

“Sean are you crazy? It’s like 40 degrees out.” Danton’s blinds are still closed, but when he went to bed there was sleet battering his window. 

“So?”

“So it’s fucking freezing!” Danton swings his legs over the side of his bed and shuffles over to his window, peeling back the curtain. 

“Why do you care about the cold now? You had no problem with going to get Frosty’s,” Sean challenges.

It’s mostly dark outside, but Danton can see in the porchlight of his neighbor’s house that the rain has stopped. Every few seconds a drop falls from their roof and ripples in a puddle on their walkway. There’s no breeze rustling through the trees, everything is quiet and still, peaceful like it always is in the dead of night. He wants to be out there. “Dick,” he mutters, letting the curtain fall back into place. 

“You won’t die, I promise.” Sean’s smug laugh is dampened by the sound of a drawer opening followed by rustling, and Danton figures that he’s digging through his clothes drawer. “I do this all the time and I’m perfectly fine.”

Danton’s heart aches at the thought of Sean repeatedly sneaking out alone at night, trying to escape the suffocating weight of responsibility that he feels in his own home. He wonders why, if this is such a common occurrence, Sean decided to invite him along this time. He’s on the verge of asking when he hears Sean’s drawer slam shut and he loses his nerve, opting for chirping him instead. “Perfectly fine? I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

“Asshole!” Sean is laughing again, this bright, happy thing, so he guesses he made the right decision. “Just bring a hat, alright? I have a blanket in my truck and we can huddle together to share body heat.”

Warmth floods through Danton at the thought, and at this rate he won’t need to put on any layers before stepping out into the cold. He’s not a masochist, though, so he does make a mental note to grab his favorite beanie off of his dresser. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Whoa really? That was so easy! I thought for sure I’d have to convince you.” 

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for the last five minutes?” 

Sean carries on as if he didn’t even hear Danton. “Was it the promise of cuddling that finally did it?”

Danton knows it’s a joke, he does, but that doesn’t stop the rush of blood from surging to his cheeks so quickly that he almost feels light-headed. “Remind me again why we’re friends?” he says, praying that his voice comes out more steady than it sounds in his head. 

“‘Cause your mom pays me.” If Sean notices anything amiss, he doesn’t let on. 

Danton nearly gives himself a headache with how hard he rolls his eyes, “Ha ha. Good one.”

“Also, we’re a classic combo. You’re the one with the emotional capacity of a rock and I’m the teddy bear overflowing with affection. We balance each other out. It just works.” Sean rattles it off like its practiced, like he’s said this exact thing countless times before. Danton tries not to linger on the fact that Sean is essentially saying that they’re perfect for each other, when really he just insulted Danton’s emotional intelligence. He can’t find it in himself to care. Not when Sean has been slowly peeling down the layers of caution around himself throughout the phone call, becoming more at ease and more animated by the minute. All Danton wants to do is help get him get back to a state where he can be his full idiotic, loveable self again.  _ That’s why we’re actually friends _ , he thinks,  _ Because we always try to lift each other up.  _

“Also I drive you around places,” Sean tacks on.

“Oh right, that,” Danton aims for a joking tone, tries to sound like he only just remembered all the hours he’s spent in the passenger seat of Sean’s truck, as if he could ever forget. “I knew I kept you around for a reason,” he teases, but his heart’s not really in it. He doesn’t want to pretend anymore that it’s a chore for him to hang out with Sean, even if that’s the dynamic that’s been established since they met each other on the playground in 3rd grade. It’s in such stark contrast to the way he actually feels, the gratitude that brims in his veins when he hears Sean’s laugh and realizes that he’s an inextricable part of his life. He doesn’t want to act apathetic anymore. “Hey,” he says, more serious, “Are we doing this?”

“Yeah.” Danton can feel his relief over the phone. “I’d do anything to get out of this house right now.”

He pushes himself forward from where he’d been resting against his wall and swings open his closet door, eyes scanning over his collection of sweatshirts until they land on his thickest hoodie. “Alright, I just need a few minutes to get ready. Pick me up in 10?” 

“I’m walking out the door now.” Sure enough Sean’s sentence is punctuated by the soft thud of a door being eased shut. 

“Cool. Text me when you pull up?” He lifts his phone away from his ear just long enough to pull the hoodie over his head.

“Do you honestly think I don’t know the drill by now?” And, yeah, this is the Sean he knows and loves.

“I’m just making sure, Sean.”

“Unnecessary, but I respect it.” 

Danton doesn’t respond, too focused on frantically rifling through his sock drawer to process anything else. He’s already tugged on a pair of mid-calves and is reaching for a pair of fuzzy socks that he’ll never admit to owning when Sean speaks again, so quiet that it’s almost like he doesn’t want to be heard.

“Hey, thanks for doing this, Danny. Seriously. I really appreciate it.” This isn’t something that they do, and Danton can hear how awkward the words sound in Sean’s mouth. Danton is used to the push-and-pull, feigned ambivalence in their friendship. It’s their routine, and he’s gotten really good at playing his role, enjoyed it, even. But he also wants more than that, wants Sean to talk to him about more than just how much school sucks and which Netflix show they should watch after practice.

“Any time, man,” he finally replies.

“You’ll regret saying that when I start making this a nightly event.”

And Danton just - he can’t. He can’t pretend he doesn’t want to be around Sean. Can’t play it off like it’s not a big deal. Can’t make a half-hearted joke like he usually would about how he’ll have to get a body double to stand in for him. He can’t, so he stops lying. “No I won’t. I’d never regret hanging out with you.”

“You might want to wait until you see how cold the beach is before you start going all in like that.” Sean’s voice wavers slightly but he’s still making jokes. He still doesn’t get it. 

Danton thinks he deserves an award for not groaning at Sean’s obliviousness. “Any time means any time, Sean.” His words are measured, deliberate. “I said what I said. I’m always here for you.” Three seconds of silence pass and he’s instantly worried that he went too far, took it somewhere too intense, and now things will be weird. He’s about to start walking it back when Sean cuts him off with a sharp inhale.

“Thanks, Danny,” he breathes out, and it’s a good thing Danton’s heart stopped beating momentarily because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to make out Sean’s voice over the pounding in his chest. It’s louder, but watery, when he speaks again, “You don’t really know how much that means to me.”

Danton tightens his grip on his phone and channels all of his emotion into that sensation to keep from saying anything stupid. His heart is soaring, and he’s so glad that he risked saying something, might do it more often if this is the response he gets. He lets himself hope fleetingly that this isn’t just one friend supporting another, that maybe there’s more going on and every weird, confusing, amazing thing he’s feeling isn’t one-sided. He closes the door on that idea before it gets too far. It’s too much for him to think about in the middle of the night, when anything seems possible and everything seems within reach. 

Danton refocuses his attention on the phone in his hand when he hears the engine of Sean’s truck turn over, it’s steady hum disrupting the quiet in his room. Sean clears his throat with an abrupt choked-off noise, “Anyway, I’m leaving now so you better hurry the fuck up.” Danton tries not to feel disappointed by his quick change in tone. Sean isn’t a very emotive guy, at least not when it comes to actual sincerity, and he knows that. He knows that he should be grateful that he got Sean to open up at all rather than slapping a forced smile on his face and saying ‘ _It’s whatever_ ,’ whatever that means. For all the shit that Sean gives him, Danton still thinks that he’s ten times more honest about his emotions than Sean has ever been. He takes a second to appreciate that they’re at least making progress before he starts moving around his room again, tugging on his second pair of socks, grabbing his wallet from his nightstand. “And, hey,” Sean pauses, making sure Danton is listening, “Don’t forget your hat. I don’t want you to get frostbite.” 

As soon as he’s done speaking the line goes dead, and Danton’s left standing in front of the mirror above his dresser, staring at his phone. He puts it down and replaces it with his beanie, cradling it in his hands. Another smile starts creeping its way onto his face when he replays Sean’s soft voice in his head, filled with something close to reverence. He raises his eyes to look at his reflection, takes in his dopey grin and the blush high on his cheeks, and whispers into his empty room, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't planning on writing any more of this story but it turns out im a ho for projection and now here we are 8k words later
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

Danton stands at his front door waiting to see Sean’s headlights pierce through the darkness in his neighborhood. His hands are sweating and he rubs his palms against his jacket, choosing to blame it on all of the layers he has on rather than the nervous excitement bubbling in his stomach. He shifts his weight from one foot to another and peers out the window. Nothing. With trembling hands he pulls out his phone and clicks on the display, _3:32 am_. Sean should be pulling up any second. He takes his beanie off and runs his hands through his hair, puts the beanie back on, shifts his weight again, looks out the window, checks his phone. Still 3:32. A pair of lights start to illuminate the trees in the distance before they bend around the corner, turning onto his street. Danton is yanking his front door shut and jogging down his walkway before he even has time to process it.

He stands on the sidewalk as the headlights sweep closer to him, until the truck is stopped on the street right in front of his house. As he runs around the bed of the truck he looks inside the driver’s side window and sees that Sean’s face is lit up from below by his phone’s display. He feels the buzz of a notification in his back pocket as he tugs open the passenger door and hauls himself up in time to see Sean nearly jump out of his seat, throwing his phone in his lap and clutching at his chest.

“Jesus, Dan! Have you been waiting outside the whole time?” He turns to Danton, eyes bulging and mouth hanging open, breathless.

“No, I just saw you pull up. Sorry, dude, I didn’t mean to make you shit your pants,” he chuckles, tugging on his seatbelt and turning the heat up all the way.

“Whatever, asshole,” Sean says, but when Danton looks over at him he’s smiling. “Just know that I’m gonna get you back.”

“I’d really love to see you try.” Danton starts to settle into his routine, plugging the aux cord into his phone and turning on the playlist that he made with Sean in mind. He’s sitting back after turning the volume up when Sean yanks the hat off of his head, making his hair stick up from the disturbance and the static electricity. “Hey, you dick!” he protests, laughing and reaching over the console to wrestle the hat from Sean’s grip. “I thought you didn’t want me to get frostbite!”

“Yeah, well now I’m reconsidering,” he grunts out, using one hand to hold the beanie out of Danton’s reach and the other to push him back into his seat. He goes willingly after a few seconds of struggle, his chest radiating warmth from where Sean’s hand is holding him back. Sean breaks into a wide smile as he quickly slides his hand up from its place on Danton’s chest, and Danton’s breath hitches. If he moved his fingers only slightly, Sean would be cradling the back of his neck. He’s harshly reminded that their friendship isn’t like that when Sean brings his hand the rest of the way up, tousling his hair and barking out a laugh. His hair goes everywhere, some of the longer strands obstructing his view, and heat rushes to his cheeks. He’s still chastising himself for getting his hopes up when Sean tugs the beanie back on his head, stretching the edge of the fabric down so it covers his eyes.

He considers staying like that, free from having to face how much of an embarrassment he is to himself, but Sean’s vibrant laugh draws him back out and he smiles despite himself. He slides farther down into his seat and tries to make a pouting face before flipping up the hem of his hat and glaring at Sean, unimpressed. “So are you ever gonna drive or are we just gonna sit in the street all night?”

Sean laughs even louder and shakes his head slightly as he puts the car in gear and pulls out onto the street. As he turns onto the main road his fingers tap against the steering wheel to the beat of the music and his eyes are hyper-focused in front of him, even though they’ve done this drive countless times.

Danton uses the opportunity to look more closely at Sean, taking in the deep crease between his eyebrows and his chewed-up fingernails. Sean lifts his thumb up to drum against the wheel, and Danton can see that the skin on the side has been picked at so much that it started bleeding. It’s the sign he was looking for. During their first finals week freshman year, Danton had to wrap Band-Aids around Sean’s fingers to keep him from anxiously tearing at the skin. Since then he’s used the habit to gage Sean’s stress levels, and if the current state of his hand is anything to go by, it hasn’t been a great night for him.

Despite all of the signs to the contrary, though, Sean seems to be in a good mood. He’s more relaxed now, one hand resting on the gear stick, and he’s quietly singing along to each song that rattles through the speakers. He flicks his eyes toward Danton and smirks, and if Danton didn’t know any better he’d think he was blushing. “Dude, quit staring at me.”

“What–” Danton starts, “Sorry, I just, uh–”

“Do I have something on my face?” He jokes, rubbing one of his hands against his cheek. Danton wishes it was his.

“Ugh, whatever, _Dad_ ,” he groans, and throws in an exaggerated eye roll for good measure.

“Oh, c’mon that’s not a dad joke!” Sean says, affronted. He sits up taller in his seat, getting ready to defend himself. “It’s a classic gag, there’s a difference. People will call anything nowadays a dad joke, but in reality dad jokes are based around puns and one-liners, okay? Fundamentally different.” His hand is waving all over the place, trying to emphasize his points. “I never thought I’d have to explain this to you. Really thought you were better than that.” He shakes his head at Danton, pretending to be disappointed. “Plus, dad jokes are peak humor anyway, so really, I’m flattered.”

Danton tries but he really can’t help himself. “Hi, Flattered, I’m Dad.”

It sits in the air between them for just a second.

“I hate you.” The glare Sean gives him would be enough to make anyone start cowering in fear, but Danton just cracks up, tossing his head back and letting his eyes squint closed. He clutches his chest and throws out his other arm on instinct, and his hand brushes against Sean’s where its resting on the center console. His skin tingles when Sean bumps their hands together deliberately. “You know I was gonna buy your Wendy’s for you, but now you’ll have to find a new sugar daddy.”

Danton uses every ounce of restraint in his body not to blush at the implications of Sean’s words. “Okay, okay, fine. How about we agree that we both have a terrible sense of humor, but it’s alright ‘cause we can make each other laugh?” He glances at Sean, who looks away from the road briefly to level him with his gaze. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Sean agrees, turning back toward the road. He bumps the back of his hand against Danton’s again, but this time when he brings his arm down to rest against the console, he leaves his hand close enough that they’re still touching. It feels like a promise.

They drive the rest of the way like that, Sean humming along to the music, Danton looking out the window trying to distract himself from how Sean’s skin is smooth and soft against his. He watches the environment change around him, dark streets lit up by porch lights on family houses giving way to flickering vacancy signs in front of seedy motels. They pass the gas station that Sean always goes to and the supermarket that his brother works at. Danton feels hypnotized by the streetlights flashing past his vision rhythmically and the warmth still emanating from his hand. He recognizes the Wendy’s sign in the distance and sits up taller in his seat, quickly smothering the disappointment he feels when Sean removes his hand to navigate the car to the drive-thru. Danton pauses his playlist as Sean pulls up to a giant menu board and rolls down the window.

“Welcome to Wendy’s, what can I get for you today?” The tired voice crackles through the speaker, and Sean looks at Danton expectantly.

“Um, can I have a small chocolate Frosty, please?” he says, leaning over Sean so the microphone can pick up his voice. Sean’s chest is like a space heater against his shoulder, and all he wants to do is curl in toward him.

“That’s it?” Sean asks. Their faces are too close for Danton to breathe, so he pulls back the slightest bit and shrugs at Sean. “Jesus, you’re a cheap date,” Sean says, and then turns to deliver the rest of his order.

Danton thinks he blacks out for a minute, ‘ _date, date, date_ ’ circling in his head. He realizes it’s only an expression and forces himself to get a grip as they pull up to the window and a bored teenager with her hair pulled back into a Wendy’s hat hands them their food and waits for Sean to pay.

They’re back on the road shortly after, and the town is still empty except for them. Danton digs into his Frosty and moans unintentionally around his first bite, making Sean chuckle.

“Hey, Danny, pass me my french fries?”

He reaches into the bag sitting on his lap and pulls out one of the big containers, surprised when he finds another still inside. “What, does your family not feed you?” he jokes. “You had to get two?”

“No you idiot,” Sean sighs, grabbing his fries from Danton’s outstretched hand, “those are for you.”  

Danton’s brain can’t suppress his smile. “Oh. Thanks.”

It’s quiet for a second, until Sean pops a few fries in his mouth and lets out a heavy, exaggerated moan. Danton looks at him like he’s crazy.

“What? I was just doing an impression of you,” he says, smirking sideways at Danton.

Danton takes one of the fries from the bag in front of him and throws it at Sean, who tries to catch it in his mouth but is so far off that it’s endearing. “Dick.”

“Takes one to know one, bud.” Sean’s smile is clear from across the cab of the truck.

They keep driving toward the beach as a peaceful quiet settles around them. Danton’s playlist is still filling the cab of the truck, and Sean’s gentle singing is interrupted periodically by him tossing fries into his mouth. Danton leans against the passenger door and angles his body toward Sean, tucking one foot under himself and settling in for the ride.

He can feel his eyelids starting to droop, now noticing the effect of leaving the house on less than three hours of sleep. He fixates on where his hand is swirling his spoon, slowly stirring until his Frosty is more chocolate milk than milkshake, in an attempt to stay awake. Not for the first time tonight, he wonders how Sean can do it. How he can get so little sleep and have so much going on in his life but still act like a normal human being. It’s only been one night and if anyone (besides Sean) tried to talk to him right now, Danton is sure he would throw a minor temper tantrum. But Sean is always so open and kind to everyone, quick with a smile or to offer advice, even if it is ill-conceived. He’s probably the best person Danton knows, and his heart swells with the thought.      

Sean’s sudden gasp shocks Danton out of his reverie, and he looks up in time to see him cranking up the volume on the stereo, blasting the song that just came on. He’s bopping his head enthusiastically and using his free hand to air drum, horrendously off-tempo. “Danny. Dude,” he says, taking a break from belting out the lyrics. “Have I ever told you how great your taste in music is?”

“I mean not nearly enough, but thanks,” Danton laughs, feeling his cheeks heat from the praise. He picked all these songs specifically for Sean, so it’s nice to hear that it’s appreciated.

Sean stills his hands against the steering wheel suddenly and shoots a quick glance over at him, eyes scanning up and down his body. “How come you only ever listen to love songs?”

Danton chokes around the spoonful of Frosty in his mouth. “What? I–” he coughs out, “I don’t just listen to love songs, I–” He takes a second to mentally scan through his playlist, trying to think of a single song that doesn’t prove Sean’s point. He comes up empty. Danton is eternally grateful in this moment that he never told Sean that this playlist was made for him. If that’s the way Sean found out about his feelings he’s not sure he’d ever be able to live down the embarrassment. “Ok, _maybe_ there’s a lot of love songs,” he concedes. “So what?”

“Nothing. It’s fine, man. There’s nothing wrong with being a hopeless romantic.”

“I’m _not_ a hopeless romantic,” he complains, wondering how he went from getting complimented about his music taste to scrutinized for it. “Pretty much every song ever written is about love, what am I supposed to listen to?” _And why would I listen to anything else when they say everything I’m feeling,_ he thinks but doesn’t say.

“I dunno. Rap? Country? They’ve got songs about trucks. Maybe techno?” Danton slides further down his seat as Sean lists them off, wishing he could hide his head in his hands. “Besides, it’s not even just the broad category of love songs,” Sean says, gesturing as he talks. “All your music is about like yearning and pining and shit. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” he tacks on quickly. “I mean it’s good music, just–” He runs his hand through his hair nervously, and part of Danton thinks it serves him right for forcing them into this awkward conversation. “Who are you hung up on, man?” He says it like it’s a joke, and Danton would almost believe that it was if it weren’t for the way that his voice quavers and his gaze flicks around anxiously.

Given everything that’s happened tonight and the fact that Sean is currently in control of a vehicle weighing multiple tons, Danton decides it’s probably not the best time to tell him the truth. It’s for their safety, he tells himself, not just to protect himself from rejection. So instead of reaching for Sean, looking him in the eyes, and admitting that it’s him, that it’s always been him, he stuffs a handful of fries in his mouth and mutters out, “Your mom,” ignoring the persistent panging in his chest. It has the desired effect, Sean letting out an amused laugh and easing some of the tension in the air. “Since when did you start analyzing lyrics, anyway,” he prods. “I thought you were only in it for the beats.”

That has Sean launching into a debate with himself about the merit of different facets of music. He’s part way through explaining how instrumentation is crucial for establishing emotional investment from the listener when Danton starts to zone out again, still listening to the melodious timber of Sean’s voice, but not really processing any of his words. He nods along to Sean’s lecture, chiming in with an “uh-huh” or “for sure” when it seems appropriate, but mostly he just lets Sean’s deep, gravelly voice wash over him. It’s almost like its own kind of music, he thinks absently as Sean’s speech combines with the instruments still sounding from the speakers. The rise and fall of his impassioned rant are nearly in time with the tempo of the song, and Danton can’t help but think that music in general would be better if every track featured Sean and his inimitable vocals.

The car rolls to a stop and Danton looks up to see that they’re parked in an abandoned lot, the only light coming from the full moon and the sweeping headlights of the truck.

“–which is why I think Hozier is the best artist of the modern era, bar none,” Sean says, concluding his argument.

“Yeah, totally,” Danton agrees even though he only heard maybe a tenth of Sean’s reasoning. He makes a mental note to add more Hozier to his playlist anyway.  

Sean is beaming at him from his spot in the driver’s seat, and that’s enough to send a jolt through Danton, bringing him back to full alertness. “I’m glad you agree. Anyway, we’re here so do you wanna grab the blankets?”

“Sure,” Danton agrees, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching into the back to grab the crumpled blankets that Sean had clearly thrown in haphazardly after their last use. He gathers them in his arms and opens the door, instinctively tugging them closer to his chest as the first cold burst of air hits his exposed skin. A shiver runs down his spine and he’s quick to attribute it to the biting wind nipping at his cheeks rather than the fact that the blankets smell like Sean, traces of his soap muddling Danton’s brain.

Sean appears in front of him with a pile of sweatshirts in hand, dimly lit by his phone’s flashlight, which is angled toward the crumbling asphalt of the parking lot. He calls for Danton to follow him and sets off toward a small clearing in the brush, looking over his shoulder every couple of steps. As they walk further down the sandy path marked by thin wooden fencing, Danton registers the subdued crash of waves hitting the shoreline, always more peaceful in the quiet of nighttime. He can see what little tension Sean had left bleeding out from his shoulders with each step that he takes toward the ocean.

Sean stops a few feet ahead of him, still a fair distance from the water, surveying the nearby sand that’s still wet from the rain. “Is this spot okay?” he asks, looking up at Danton. It’s too dark to make out his features.

“I dunno man, you’re the one in charge.” Sean doesn’t react, still looking in Danton’s general direction. “Yeah, dude, it’s perfect,” he finally says, and that must have been what Sean was waiting for because he drops his pile of clothes on the ground and steps closer to Danton to take one of the blankets from his hands. Danton’s whole body immediately warms when Sean crowds his space.

“Can you hold the flashlight for me so I can set up the blanket?” Sean asks even though he’s already pressing his phone into Danton’s grasp. He steps away toward the spot they decided on, unfurling the cloth while Danton holds up the light and tries to keep his hand from trembling. He considers it a miracle that he’s been able to keep his composure around Sean for as long as he has, but tonight’s loss of control was an inevitability.

The picnic blanket, Danton realizes belatedly, is rectangular, long enough for both of them to lie down, but not wide enough that they could put any meaningful distance between them. _Perfect_ , he thinks, as his heart begins to hammer in his chest, _just fucking perfect_.

He follows after Sean, watching as he sits on the left side of the blanket and tucks his legs up, hugging his knees to his chest. As Danton sits he can feel the cold from the sand seeping through the blanket and his pants, his body already starting to tremble.

“Holy shit,” he grits out.

“What’s wrong?” Sean asks, the concern clear in his voice.

“It’s fucking freezing, just like I said it’d be!”

“Quit being a baby.” Danton can tell that Sean is rolling his eyes, but he passes Danton one of the spare sweatshirts anyway. “Here, sit on this. We wouldn’t want your ass to go numb, now would we?”

Because Danton is a dignified guy, he absolutely does not choke at the mention of his ass. He does, however, involuntarily tense every muscle in his body when Sean brings his hand to his back, rubbing up and down quickly to warm him up.

“There,” Sean says, reconnecting his hands and resting his chin on his knees. “Feel better?”

Danton lets out a noise that gets caught in his throat, then curses himself internally for the millionth time tonight. “Yeah, better,” he tries again, and rests his arms behind him, leaning back and aiming for nonchalance.  

They sit in relative silence, listening to the calming crash of the waves and letting their thoughts settle. Danton reaches for the other blanket after another chill runs through him and is rewarded with Sean’s light chuckle as he throws it over his legs.

“What?” he asks, bristling, ready to defend himself.

“Nothing… I didn’t say anything.” Sean is looking at him over his shoulder, and the slight curve at the corner of his mouth is just visible. His eyes are glinting in the moonlight, soft and warm, and Danton’s heart lurches. He ignores the urge to card his fingers through Sean’s hair and settles back on his hands instead. Danton’s arm is crossing over into Sean’s section of the blanket, mere inches from his back, and Danton can feel the warmth emanating from him.

Eventually Sean faces forward again, looking out over the ocean. Danton can see his jaw working, his mouth opening as if to say something, then closing like he thought better of it. Right when he thinks he’s given up, Sean speaks again. “Is everything okay?”

And – that’s not what he was expecting. “Huh?” Danton manages.

“Is everything alright with you? You just – you seem kinda off.”

“I’m fine,” he promises, too eagerly to be true.

“Danny…” Sean is looking at him pleadingly, like it physically hurts him to be lied to. “I keep catching you zoning out, and that’s not like you. You’re usually so focused. And, I mean, you’re always quiet but never like this.”

Danton can’t tell him the truth. He’s not ready to drop the feelings bomb that in all likelihood would blow their friendship to smithereens. “I dunno, man, maybe I’m just tired?” It’s half true, at least.

“Danton.” His tone is sharp, unwavering. “What’s wrong?”

 _Well for starters, I think I’m in love with you_. “It’s hockey,” he blurts out, a justification starting to come together in his mind. “I’m worried about my ice time.” It’s not what’s actually got him bent out of shape, but it’s true enough to be believable; his ice time has been dwindling down recently.

When he looks up he sees Sean nodding at him, angled closer toward him than he had been. His eyes are welcoming, daring Danton to confide in him. “I get it,” he says, “but I really don’t think it’s anything to worry about–”

“We don’t have to talk to about this,” he says, cutting Sean off. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is if it’s got you acting this different,” Sean argues, stubborn as always. And Danton knows he’s right. It would be worth talking about if it was the actual problem, but as it is he’d be venting for no purpose.

“You’ve got enough going on already, you shouldn’t have to worry about me.” If it were any other night, Danton’s sure that the brief mention of Sean’s situation would be enough to make him close himself off, but today seems different.

“Just ‘cause I’ve got my own shit doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you with yours.”

“It’s not fair of me to bug you with this stuff,” Danton argues, but he can tell it’s a losing battle.  

“Danny, I’m asking you to.” The full weight of his gaze is wrecking Danton, pinning him in place. Sean’s grip around his knees is loosening, fingers twitching almost like he wants to reach out. “I’m not gonna judge you,” he says, so earnestly that Danton aches. “Just talk to me.”

With a sigh, Danton realizes he can’t hold out anymore. If the problem really was hockey there’d be no reason why he couldn’t talk to Sean about it, and Sean doesn’t seem ready to give up any time soon.

“I mean, like I said, it’s just the ice time,” he starts, trying to come up with something convincing enough that Sean will stop asking. “It sucks, ‘cause I’ll feel like I’m getting better, and then coach’ll bench me randomly. Or – I guess it’s not random. I mean, it’s not exactly like I’m putting up points.”    

“Hey, man,” Sean interrupts, bumping his elbow against Danton’s ribcage, “Everybody goes through point droughts, okay? Even Bergy, and he’s practically Jesus.”

A choked laugh manages to escape Danton. “I don’t see what your crush on Bergy has to do with anything,” he says through his smile.

“Fuck you, everyone has a crush on Bergy. I’m pretty sure half of the freshmen on the team faint every time he skates by them.” Sean jostles him with his elbow again before turning sideways toward Danton, crossing his legs and resting his folded hands on top of the blanket, just above Danton’s knee. “Look, the point is… no one’s gonna score every game. Hell, I barely ever score. But even when you’re not scoring you’re so good out there, Danton. You know what to do away from the puck, and you’re so trustworthy, and _smart_. You’re my favorite player to watch. Every shift, I can’t take my eyes off you.”

Danton’s cheeks are flaming and he can feel Sean’s eyes on him now, but he doesn’t dare look up. Even though it was true, this hadn’t been a real concern when he first brought it up, just a distraction to get Sean to stop asking questions. But maybe his cover story had been a little too real after all, because now Danton is struck by the realization that an invisible weight is beginning to lift off his shoulders, one that he didn’t even know existed.

“It’s gonna be hard for you to watch me when I’m sitting on the bench all game.” He means for it to be a joke, but that gets lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth, instead coming out laced with dejection.

“Nah, fuck that,” Sean says, shaking his head. “I’d watch you anywhere you go.”

“Creep,” Danton manages with the little breath he has left. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Sean was flirting. “Who are you, The Police?”

“No. Nope. Uh-uh.” Sean is shaking his head vehemently. “You don’t get to make fun of _me_ for being a dad when you just made a joke about a song from the fuckin’ 80s.”

“Dude, everyone knows that song,” Danton says, laughter starting to bubble up in his throat. “Plus it’s in that Vine. You know, the one with the stalker goose. I thought you of all people would appreciate that…”

“Don’t fucking say it,” Sean warns, eyes shining with amusement.

“Gooseboy.”

“Take it back!” Sean clearly tries to sound threatening but his laughter gives him away. Instead he lunges at Danton, shoving him playfully until Danton is lying flat on his back, arms pinned above him, fingers pressing into the cool sand. They both know that Danton’s not a weak guy, that he could have put up more of a fight. But now, with Sean kneeling next to him, holding his arms down, pressing into the exposed part of his wrist, Danton’s not sure why he would ever fight back.

“Ok, fine.” His heart is hammering in his chest and it’s getting harder to breathe again. “I take it back.”

“Good,” Sean smiles, sitting back on his heels. He lets go of one of Danton’s arms and pats him on the cheek twice. Danton swears that he can still feel his cheek tingling seconds later.

As Sean goes back to his original position hugging his knees, Danton sits up again, readjusting the blanket that came off him during their struggle.

“My dad loves them, you know,” Sean says wistfully, looking out over the water again. “The Police. I have no idea why ‘cause they kinda suck.”

Danton sits there quietly, unsure of what Sean wants him to say. He brought this up on his own though, so it has to mean something. “So I take it you got your good taste from your mom?” he tries, testing the waters.

Sean lets out a short huff of a laugh. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He’s staring contemplatively at the waves and Danton notices that his muscles are tense, coiled tightly and folding in on himself. Danton leans back on his hands again, hoping that his relaxed posture might rub off on Sean. His left arm is across the blanket, close to Sean, nearly bracing his back. “He’s a great chef, though. My mom can’t cook for shit. She always says, ‘The only thing I can cook is takeout and leftovers.’” There’s the slightest hint of amusement in his voice, but mostly he just sounds forlorn. “Even that might be a stretch, though.”

“Yeah, but your dad’s cooking is awesome. Remember that dip he made for your birthday last year? I still have dreams about it.” Danton feels like he’s navigating a minefield, like one wrong word will cause everything around him to shatter.

“Yeah, he taught me how to make it. He actually gave me the recipes for a bunch of stuff ‘cause he hasn’t been feeling well enough to cook the past few months.” Sean sighs, and alarms start going off in Danton’s head, telling him that he stepped somewhere he shouldn’t have, that a mine is about to blow. He braces for the explosion, but it never comes. Instead, Sean keeps talking, quickly and quietly, like what he’s saying is a secret even from himself. “And obviously my mom can’t cook, so it’s kinda my job now. It was either that or we all starve. So yeah, I make all the meals now. It’s kinda hard with practice sometimes ‘cause I won’t be around the house, so then I have to make sure everything’s ready the day before. But, yeah. It’s good – or fine, or whatever.” Sean finally stops to take a breath and Danton can’t help but gape at him, shocked by his hasty admission.

“I didn’t know you did all that.” It’s all that he can think to say, and he kicks himself for not having the right words.

“It’s not a big deal,” Sean says, and it’s maybe the least convincing thing Danton has ever heard.

“That must be really hard for you–”

“It’s not,” Sean fires back, and okay, _that’s_ the least convincing thing Danton’s ever heard.

“Okay… sure,” Danton placates. “But… if it was hard for you, I completely get why it would be. That’s a lot of responsibility to have on top of school and hockey and everything else.”

“Yeah, well it’s not exactly like I had a choice.” Sean’s voice is watery, and Danton can sense that he’s starting to lose control of the conversation. He needs Sean to hear this, though, so he risks pressing further.

“I know that. And I’m so, so sorry. I can’t imagine what it was like to have this impossible situation pushed onto you and not have any say in what happens.” In a moment of impulse he lifts his hand to stroke up and down Sean’s back. He flinches away imperceptibly at first, but then relaxes into the touch. “But I think that, whatever you’re feeling, you’re allowed to feel that way. If you’re angry, or tired, or sad, or resentful, that’s fine. And no matter what, I’ll think you’re awesome. I–”

“Okay, yup, got it,” Sean interrupts, nodding his head, but something inside Danton tells him that he really _did_ get it. “Can we stop talking about this now?”

Danton knew this was coming, it has every other time he’s tried talking about Sean’s dad. He’s just glad that this time he made it far enough to say his piece and that Sean actually listened. Still, he takes his hand off of Sean’s back and sets it against the blanket again, close enough that he can still feel Sean’s warmth.

“Sure, no problem. It was starting to get a little too much like a soap opera anyway,” he says, lightening the mood like he knows Sean would want.

“Oh, fuck you.” Sean’s laughing though, and he nudges Danton with his shoulder in what he thinks is a show of appreciation. “We both know that you’re the real drama queen out of the two of us, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the team says. You know and I know, so don’t try to pretend.”

“Jesus, I make you watch a romance movie _one time_ and this is what I get.”

“It was The Notebook, Danny. Of course I’m gonna give you shit for it.”

Sean sits up a little straighter, finally letting go of his knees and stretching out his legs across the blanket. In the process, he leans back into where Danton is crowding into his side of the blanket. Danton startles at first from the sudden contact, but tries to convincingly hide his shock by leaning forward and lifting the blanket on top of him to cover Sean’s legs as well. He regrets it almost instantly. Now they’re pressed together from hip to ankle, and Danton can’t tear his mind away from each tiny point of contact, the warm, strong pressure settling in his mind like an anchor. He moves his hand back to the same place on the blanket, right by Sean’s hip, and does his best not to jump in surprise when Sean leans into him, resting against his shoulder.  

“Everyone’s seen The Notebook. I was just trying to bring you up to speed,” he says, after taking in one slow breath, then another for good measure. He can feel Sean’s eyes on him, analyzing his profile, but he can’t convince himself to lift his gaze from where its boring a hole in the sand. The entire left side of his body is on fire, every cell lit up by Sean’s presence. It would be so, so easy to curl into him, to wrap him in a hug, to hold him close and never let go. Danton decides to count every grain of sand on the beach, instead. It’s a much less overwhelming task.

“Listen, I’m gonna tell you something. But if you tell a single soul about this…” Sean starts, voice filled with warning, “I will do unspeakable things to you.”

“Unspeakable, huh?” Danton waggles his eyebrows but keeps his eyes fixed on the sand. _Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen_ … he loses count when Sean starts shaking with laughter against him.

“You have no idea. Anyway… you can’t tell anyone, but…” Sean trails off, glancing quickly over both shoulders, pretending to make sure they’re alone. _And he says_ I’m _dramatic_ , Danton thinks.

“IlovedTheNotebook,” Sean blurts out as a sheepish grin overtakes his face.

“I’m sorry, what?” Danton tries to act incredulous, like it wasn’t clear to him that Sean enjoyed the movie way more than he had any business doing. It was Danton, after all, who graciously handed Sean a box of tissues when he heard him sniffling during the last scene.    

“You heard me, asshole. It was a good movie!”

“Hang on a second. I just need to tell a few people about this,” Danton says, faking like he was going to grab his phone from his pocket. But before he can move too far, Sean reaches back and grabs his hand, holding it in place.

“Not a fucking chance.” Sean is beaming at him, and Danton thinks he might go blind from the radiance of it. He’s so preoccupied by Sean’s smile that it takes a second to process how Sean is rubbing small, soft circles into his hand with the pad of his thumb. Danton’s breath hitches. “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you go anywhere.”

“Who says I wanted to?” It leans a little more toward flirty than Danton had intended, but if the way Sean is still massaging his hand is any indication, there might be more hope here than he thought.   

Sean’s smile turns shy, and he ducks his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Danny.”

“Do what?”

“You just make everything better.” Sean raises his head again, but now it’s Danton’s turn to hide his face, his cheeks flaring instantly. They get impossibly redder as Sean gives his hand a light squeeze. “Seriously. I don’t know what it is, but every time I’m with you I end up smiling. I know you can’t fix everything, but being with you makes it all easier. There’s just something about you.”  

When Danton lifts his head, Sean is staring right at him. He has just enough time to register the fire burning bright behind his eyes before Sean is listing forward and pressing their lips together.

Danton freezes, unable to process anything that’s happened in the last minute. It’s not until Sean lets out a gentle sigh against his lips that Danton’s body finally cooperates, his muscles thawing out, itching to pull Sean closer. He moves his mouth in sync with Sean’s, tilting his head when Sean tugs lightly at his hair, knocking his hat off in the process, and it’s like the whole world unlocks.

He gets lost in it. Everything around him is heightened and vivid and _Sean_. It would be too much to handle if he didn’t have Sean there guiding him through it, every touch a wordless assurance.

Danton starts leaning forward involuntarily, and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s because Sean is pulling away, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before resting their foreheads together.

“So here’s the deal,” Sean says, his voice rough, and Danton steels himself for the cold crush of rejection. “I don’t really know what I’m doing. Up until tonight I had never even thought about kissing you.” Danton bows his head so that Sean won’t see the devastation clearly written on his face, but Sean tilts his head back up, looking at him fiercely. “But as soon as I did think about it I couldn’t stop,” he admits, softening his voice but never taking his eyes off of Danton’s. “You’re in my head, Danny.”

Danton tries to quell the hope blooming inside him. He can’t do this if it doesn’t mean something to Sean, if it was just a spur of the moment decision. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that…” Sean lets out a shaky breath and Danton feels it on his face more than hears it. “I’m saying that this is all really new to me. In a way that I don’t think it is for you. And you’re so important to me, I don’t want to mess anything up but… I really want this.” Danton’s pulse quickens and he’s sure that Sean can feel it from where his hand is cradling his neck, thumb brushing gently against his jawline. “I want to be with you, Danny.”

It’s what Danton has been desperate to hear for months, but part of his brain is still telling him that it’s too good to be true. That Sean just wanted _someone_ and Danton was available. He uses all of his willpower not to kiss Sean again and instead asks, “Are you sure?”

Sean responds before the question is even out of his mouth. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“No, Sean. Really think about it, ok? Please.” Danton wraps a hand around his bicep, trying to will him to understand. “You just said it’s all new for you. And if you say all this and then change your mind…”

 _It would break me_.

“I’m not gonna change my mind, Dan.” He’s holding Danton’s head between his hands so intently, like his desperation will ensure that Danton hears him. “And yeah the whole wanting to kiss you thing is new, but nothing else is. And for the record I’m really sure about the kissing thing. Like really sure. That was awesome.” A dazed laugh escapes Danton, and Sean surges forward to kiss him again, brief but sincere. “You’ve always been the person I want around more than anyone else. And you make me happier than anyone else can. I think all of this has always been there it just… finally clicked.”

“Okay.” Danton means for it to be permission, for them to pick up where they left off, but Sean’s bewildered gaze lets him know he missed the mark.

“Okay?” he echoes. “I mean, what about you? You haven’t really said anything and I’m starting to freak out.”

“Me? I’ve got like…” He waves his hand thoughtfully. “Feelings, and shit.”

“Wow,” Sean scoffs. “Eloquent, Dan.”

“Shut up. You know what I mean.” Danton does his best, but he can’t keep the smile from spreading across his face, and everything he’s feeling is reflected back at him when he looks at Sean. He finally, mercifully, gives into himself and bends forward to press their lips together.

They’re deliberate this time, less overwhelmed by raw anxiety and excitement, more willing to take their time. They explore each other, Sean’s hands in Danton’s hair, Danton’s hands grabbing at Sean’s hips. Danton tries to catalog every reaction he gets out of Sean, how he shivers when he bites his lower lip, how he whines when Danton traces his fingers up his side. His brain nearly short-circuits when Sean stutters his hips forward, and when he finally regains his focus he pulls back the slightest bit, panting.

“Don’t get me wrong, this is awesome,” he says against Sean’s lips, “but I think we should probably stop.”

A flicker of disappointment flashes across Sean’s face before he’s able to school his features, but Danton sees it all the same. “Okay, if you want.”

“Trust me, there’s nothing I’d rather do right now than keep making out with you. But this is all going really fast.” He grabs for Sean’s hand and feels instantly warmer where their skin touches. Sean relaxes a bit but still seems hesitant, so Danton instinctually aims for levity. “And we might not want the first time we hook up to be on a freezing cold beach. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, you know?” he asks, looking pointedly toward the crotch of his sweatpants, delighting in Sean’s ringing laughter that follows.

“You know I’ve seen you in the locker room before. I know what I’m getting myself into.”

“You’re telling me you’ve seen all this”–he makes a sweeping gesture across his body–“up close and personal, and it still took you this long to make a move?”

Sean must not have picked up on the sarcasm, or decided to ignore it, because he shrugs before saying, way too sincerely, “What can I say? I’m an idiot.”

That has Danton thinking again, things that are embarrassing enough that he should never say them out loud. But his filter’s never been too great around Sean, and he can tell that _something_ is about to come out, so he tries to make it minimally humiliating for himself.

“What made you realize you like me?” is what he lands on, and he lets it sit between them for several seconds before hastily adding on, “I mean – earlier you said that there was a moment when everything clicked. What was it?”

Sean’s open features turn guarded for the briefest of moments, and Danton almost thinks that he pushed too far. But then his stoic expression is replaced with his usual bright smile, and he’s wrapping Danton into a hug as he says, “It was when you made that shitty dad joke, you know the ‘Hi Flattered, I’m Dad’ one? You’ve never been more attractive than in that moment.”

“Ugh, seriously?” Danton groans, but he burrows his head against Sean’s chest, savoring the feeling of Sean pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his hair. “Can you pick something else?”

“No can do, babe.” Danton is glowing more and more with every word Sean says. “I like what I like, there’s no changing that.”

And Danton thinks that maybe he can live with that, because Sean likes _him_. And here, sitting on the deserted beach, wrapped in each other’s arms, Danton has never been happier. So why would he want to change that?

–––––––––––

It’s not until five months later that Sean tells him the truth. They’re sitting on his couch, watching a movie and picking at the last of the leftover chicken parm that they made together the night before. Danton’s been whining for the last 10 minutes about how they always watch rom-coms, Sean’s apparent distaste for them going out the window as soon as they started dating.

On screen, Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds just collided into each other naked, and Danton rolls his eyes fondly at the laugh it elicits from Sean. He’s about to protest further, ask why he never gets to pick the movie, if only to keep up the long-suffering boyfriend shtick, but when he turns to Sean he sees that he’s already watching him. Danton only quirks his eyebrow in response, but it’s enough for Sean’s smile to go soft around the edges.

“It wasn’t the dad joke,” he says, and Danton’s scrunched forehead and wrinkled nose must give away his confusion. “When you asked me what it was that made me realize I like you, I told you it was the dad joke. But it wasn’t, it was before that.”  

Danton just blinks at him, and Sean must not have even known himself that he was about to admit this, because now he’s frozen, just staring in Danton’s general direction.

“So then… what was it?” Danton draws it out because Sean still looks catatonic from his own confession. It only takes the feather-light touch of his finger against Sean’s wrist to get him to reanimate.

“It was like two minutes before that,” he whispers, leaning in toward Danton, face open and vulnerable. “We were in my truck and I looked over at you, and you were staring at me like… I don’t know, like I was sacred?” He’s shaking his head like it’ll take away the weight of his words. “I mean, it sounds stupid but that’s what it felt like. You looked at me like I was worth it, and I realized that I never wanted you to stop.”

Danton’s focusing all of his energy on swallowing around the lump that’s formed in his throat, so he doesn’t get the chance to intervene before Sean is barreling forward. “Anyway, then I said some stupid shit so I wouldn’t have to think about my feelings. But, surprise, surprise, that didn’t really work out, and now here we are.” He pats Danton’s thigh and fidgets in his seat, suddenly a ball of nervous energy.

Danton settles him with a lingering kiss, hands cradling either side of his face. “If I promise that I’ll never stop looking at you like that,” he says against Sean’s lips, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb, “will you finally let me pick the movie?”

Sean goes to kiss him again, but he’s smiling so wide that it’s more their teeth clicking together than anything else.

“Deal.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!
> 
> im a big fan of Gay Disaster Mom Friend™ (GDMF) Danton Heinen 
> 
> you can listen to danton's playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7c0CxrqFulPv4hTM4f4fSV?si=iVkVX3FjSx2grivBad9QxA  
> it's kind of all over the place but so is he


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